


Narrative Choice

by TriffidsandCuckoos



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Ambiguity, Ambiguous/Open Ending, F/M, Infected Paul Matthews, POV First Person, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23615548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriffidsandCuckoos/pseuds/TriffidsandCuckoos
Summary: Paul is either in hiding with Emma or they never got away in the first place.
Relationships: Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Narrative Choice

**Author's Note:**

> After I saw the musical all the way through for the first time (there is a not-very-interesting story behind this), I did a lot of half-scribblings. I'm trying to be better about these, ie. yes they're bad and incomplete but maybe don't just let them linger forever in my documents.

They wanted me to want something – no, they needed it. Needed something to latch onto. The act of wanting. Wanting to belong – that's what it all is, at the bottom. To be the star or the chorus, to be happy. A part of it all. Not outside. The leading man’s still a part of the company; still answers to the director, I guess.

_Alternatively: the world’s blue and wonderful. I know all the steps, all the moves, all the moves, and I’m never out of sync every again. I know what it’s like to feel her hand in mine and it’s everything I want. They were right. This is better._

Never thought cynicism would be a superpower. Never thought detachment would save the world – only it didn't, did it? They figured it out in the end. Showed me the emptiness inside me. I never cared before. I didn't even feel it. I was just...me. Didn't have an idea of what happiness could be, so didn't think we were talking about different things.

_Can’t go back to the hollow man, the mannequin without costumes or a part. Waiting for someone to colour me in. I’m shades of blue because that’s what we all are. She’s the most beautiful sapphire in the world, ultramarine depths. Her eyes are the same blue as everyone else’s and that is the best thing._

When it started bubbling up, like a toxic swamp in cartoons, like bliss bubbles popping in my brain...I thought about her. I shouldn't have. Should have just...something. But those burst membranes splattered all over the thought of her, so I can't think about her and those smiles wrinkling my face at Beanies without the bliss leaking in. Like they're the same thing, now: being with the Hive, and being with her. What I want.

_I have everything I want. I wanted her, so the Hive wanted her, and now we want to remain whole._

I never wanted a grand romance, but now everything is ballads and violins. I had a crush on a barista in a shitty coffee shop, and in a thousand years I'd maybe ask her out, only those moments were fine. Hearing her complain and knowing she didn't see me. Didn't matter. Bright point of the day. That was all – now it's "starlight" and "sunlight," the echoing lyrics I say aren’t unfolding inside my head, and it was never going to be that. Don't know whether it's that the Hive doesn't get technology or just doesn't want to rhyme "netflix". ("Get fixed." I did it for you.) We should have been normal. Boring.

_Being the same isn’t the same as boring. Boring is dullness, no purpose, walking when you should be dancing. Everybody does it because it’s the best way to be. The Hive shows the universe how to live. Emma’s so much happier bubbling over with joy, not complaining, as if she hadn’t chosen to be unhappy._

We're together now – "together" as in we live together, eat together, hide from the world together. I dress for work like usual even though a pot farm and an office don't exactly call for the same uniform. It's Emma doing most of the actual work, anyway – she studied for it, after all. If her leg goes, then I'm there. She calls me her hero and even though it's as sarcastic as everything else she says it makes the humming in my head get louder and it's all I can do to focus on smiling and not making it too wide.

_I dream about a farm, green instead of blue. When I go there, the voices go quieter. I don’t like it. We don’t want to be alone._

Tea with honey in it. It's disgusting, but you need it when you scream until you can't sing anymore.

_Emma reminds me what I want, the way the Hive always does. I want her, that’s all. She’s in the Hive, I want the Hive, the Hive gave me something to want and they even gave us the happy ending._

Sometimes I brush my teeth too hard and spit out white mixed with red, and sometimes I catch myself shaving and the mirror shows blue. I don't know which is worse. It's like my blood's one of those toothpaste adverts, and blood isn't even supposed to work that way so I don't know what it means. 

_They didn’t have to end it. They could have let it go on – they’ve done it before, I know that now. They spun out the show because the leading man needed motivation and they couldn’t let the show finish. The invasion is the show. They need the perpetual motion. They could have let Emma keep running, could have made me think different. But they want us to be happy._

“You ever think they’ll find us?” Emma asks out of nowhere. She asks lots of things out of nowhere, and I love it. Nothing has to follow or make narrative sense. She thinks like a person. “Any of them – any of the things and stuff that are interested in us.”

_We’re living the applause._

I ask her, “Why would they?”


End file.
